


Ten Hour Flight

by howler32557038



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Complete, Dora Milaje - Freeform, M/M, Mile High Club, PWP, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6804571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howler32557038/pseuds/howler32557038
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>En route to Wakanda in T'Challa's private jet, Steve and Bucky make the best of their first moment alone in the aftermath of their fight with Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. T'Challa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clockworkqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkqueen/gifts).



> Hiya, sweetpeas! Just filling another Tumblr prompt before the next chapter of The Simple Life (after which, Vesna will be updated).
> 
> This one came from clockworkqueen (@zoe-tropee). The request was for Steve and Bucky's first time after the events of the Winter Soldier, but we were so close to the release of Civil War that I just let this one simmer for a bit. Since Civil War didn't provide much downtime for them and also canonically reunited them, I just set it directly after CW's events. It got a bit on the long side though (what doesn't, with me?), so I'll post it in several parts. Have fun!

 

Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out.

Damn.

What a day.

_ What a week. _

He can hardly bring himself to even  _ begin _ processing everything that's happened. And hell, that can wait until he's had a full night's sleep, anyway. Sam, Wanda, Clint, and Scott are all safe. T'Challa has provided all of them with the resources to stay off of Ross' radar and, given a little more time, Steve has faith that Tony might even be willing to to provide some help of his own.

And Bucky. Steve feels an exhilarating surge of joy swell in the center of his chest. Bucky is safe. Bucky is free and getting better, and he's right here, with him. For all that's gone wrong,  _ that _ is finally right.

T'Challa had volunteered his own private jet to ferry the two of them to a protected facility in Wakanda with a very well-equipped medical center. In terms of luxury, the jet is nearly as nice as one of Tony's - in Steve's opinion, it's a little more tasteful than anything in the Stark Industries fleet. For starters, there's no tacky mini-bar with rope-lights, which immediately appeals to Steve's sensibilities. There is, however, a very nice conference table (which Steve has been subtly trying to lean against, just to see if it is, as he suspects, solid vibranium), and two long, plush couches, as well as two private rooms built into the main cabin. It sure as hell ain't economy class.

T'Challa had given them a very hurried tour and introduced his personal guard, including his sister and chief of security, Shuri, who is piloting the jet. Every last one of the guards is drop-dead gorgeous lady, and a few of them are an inch or two taller than Steve, and every last one looks lethally dangerous. Steve tries to conceal his surprise and reminds himself firmly to keep his mouth shut, because he  _ still _ somehow manages to come off as just a  _ little _ racist or just a  _ touch _ sexist when he tries to comment on things like this, in spite of Sam's patient coaching and his own heartfelt remorse.

After the brief round of introductions, T'Challa had offered them some much-needed first aid. It's certainly better than what they'd managed on their own. One of the guards patches up the cuts and abrasions on Steve's face (which doesn't make him blush - that's just bruising) while T'Challa himself looks after Bucky. The woman (Steve learns that her name is Hiwot and that her older sisters, Meklit and Seble are also part of T'Challa's guard) is just removing her gloves and disposing of a tray full of bloodied gauze when T'Challa approaches them, smiling tiredly at Steve.

"Thank you, ma’am,” he smiles. She gives him a thumbs up, which doesn’t seem to impress T’Challa too much. “He doing alright?" Steve asks softly.

T’Challa nods, smile widening. “He told me that the electrical tape you used to patch up his arm was a relief,” he laughs. “I assured him that we will find a much better solution once we arrive in Wakanda. His nose was broken quite badly, but he says that it is healing already.” T’Challa’s face softens pensively. “We did talk, briefly. I apologized for my mistakes - for assuming I had all of the answers. I am glad to have this opportunity to understand him better. I want to help him,” he concludes with utter sincerity.

“Thank you,” Steve smiles gratefully, humbled. “For keeping an open mind.”

“It was a valuable lesson for me,” T’Challa sighs. “One which I will not soon forget. I hate to seem discourteous or less than hospitable, my friend,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “But I am  _ very _ tired. You are both enhanced and still have some energy, but I am just a man, and I have not slept since my father’s passing.”

“Please, gosh - you saved our lives, your Highness. Go get some rest. Buck and I need to, too. We’re dead on our feet.”

T’Challa looks relieved. Steve suddenly gets the sense that, for all his kingly qualities, he’s not too fond of the formalities his position requires. “Please - when we are alone, you may just call me T’Challa,” he assures him, confirming Steve’s suspicion. “This cabin over here,” he explains, gesturing to the curtained glass partition behind Steve, “was where my father used to sleep on long flights - he used it more as an office, though. I believe he left many books and papers lying on the bed. I ought to go through them at some point. But the other room is for guests. The bed is a little larger, so if you and your friend do not mind to share, you both might feel better after a good night’s rest with your head on a pillow.”

“I think I could sleep on a hot sidewalk right about now,” Steve admits, holding back a yawn. “How long’s the flight?”

“Ten hours. And if you don’t mind, unless you or James need me, I would like to sleep for the entirety of it,” T’Challa replies with an apologetic grimace.

Steve stands up (been awhile since he was this sore) and reaches out to shake T’Challa’s hand. “No problem at all. Please, get some rest. We’re going to do the same. And again - thank you. For everything.”

T’Challa gives a quick nod and squeezes Steve’s hand firmly. “I will request that none of us are disturbed until we land.”


	2. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how I love tiny chapters that I can post super quickly.

T’Challa asks a few members of his guard to escort Steve and Bucky to their private cabin and make sure that they’re well taken care of, even though Steve repeatedly assures him that they’ve done more than enough already. The women insist on bringing them extra pillows and blankets and a few bottles of water, and Hiwot introduces her sisters. Steve is pretty sure he catches Bucky and Seble making eyes at each other, which makes him a  _ little  _ jealous, but with how tall and lean and powerful she looks, he’s not sure he could actually stand up to her in his current state.

“We’ll be in the main cabin,” Meklit informs them. “There is food if you get hungry, and company if you become bored,” she smiles, and Steve doesn’t miss that she throws a glance toward Bucky as she backs out of the cabin.

“Quit flirting,” Steve scolds once she’s gone. All Bucky can offer up in his own defense is a guilty smirk.

Hiwot finishes adding pillows to the large bed stifles a laugh. “She is a member of the Dora Milaje. She does not have time for a boyfriend,” she smiles. “I think she wants to spar with you.”

“Hey, if that’s what floats her boat,” Bucky shrugs.

“Bucky.”

“If you two will be in Wakanda for some time, maybe we will all get the chance to spar together,” Hiwot suggests. “We have seen you fighting - back in Berlin. We can teach you some things! Help you be less clumsy.”

Steve’s feathers are admittedly ruffled by that remark, but then he remembers how fluidly T’Challa himself fights, and then he realizes that these women are essentially his secret service. Hell, they probably could show him a thing or two. “We might take you up on that.”

“Sleep well,” Hiwot says softly, waving goodbye as she slips out.

“Thanks.”

Once the sliding door is shut and the lights are dimmed, Bucky is out like a light. He’s curled up on top of the blankets and snoring before Steve even has his boots off. Steve settles in just a few minutes later, expecting to fall asleep just as quickly, but once he’s beside Bucky, all he can do is stare. First at the ceiling, and then at Bucky’s profile in the warm, low light.

He doesn’t know what Bucky remembers. He knows he remembers Hydra. He remembers bits and pieces of their childhood. But the rest...Steve hasn’t had the chance to ask. Judging by everything they’ve talked about so far, Bucky’s memories are still fragmented - he may not have put a cohesive timeline together yet. Years could still be missing. And there’s just no tactful way to ask if he remembers that he and Steve used to occasionally sleep together. They didn’t do it often before the war (and when they did, whiskey was usually involved), but once they were fighting together in the European theater, they had become closer. They stole quite a few moments together during early morning watches while the others slept. And maybe now isn’t the time to bring it up, anyway. No matter how beautiful Bucky looks. They need to get some sleep, and Bucky might not even be ready to talk about... _ that. _ Hell, they didn’t even talk about it all that much back then. And Steve’s not even sure if Bucky knows that it’s much less taboo these days. Maybe Bucky never considered it all that serious to begin with.

Steve tells himself that it’s enough that Bucky’s safe again. He tells himself that that’s all he should want. As long as Bucky is free and getting better, he can live with anything. And maybe, just  _ maybe _ , Bucky will open up to him about it. And Steve can wait until Bucky’s ready. They’ve got time now, he thinks as he drifts off.

 

Steve wakes up feeling  _ so _ much better. He hadn’t realized how tired he was - it’s entirely possible that he’d just started to forget what  _ not exhausted _ felt like. Bucky still hasn’t moved an inch, poor guy.

He slides gingerly out of the soft bed, careful not wake Bucky, and steps out into the main cabin. T’Challa’s guards had been in the middle of a hushed conversation  in a language Steve has never heard on the plush sofas, but they fall silent when they notice him.

“Getting hungry?” Meklit asks.

“No, no, just seeing how much time’s left on the flight.”

“Three and a half hours,” she informs him, checking her very,  _ very _ nice watch.

“Thanks, ma’am,” he smiles. A few of them lean in close to one another to whisper smilingly. Seble gives Meklit a little shove.

“Ah...want to come play cards with us?” she asks shyly. One of the others gives a low whistle.

Steve feels himself flushing red. “Mm,” he groans. “Think I might need a little more rest, but...aha, thanks, though.”

“And what about your friend?” Seble presses, cocking one shapely eyebrow in the direction of their private cabin.

Steve is almost certain that the blush spreads right up to his ears now, especially considering the way the guards are all looking at him. “He’s...well, he’s still asleep. I’ll let him know you offered, though. When he wakes up,” he laughs weakly, shuffling backward toward the door. “Night!” he says, voice cracking embarrassingly.

“Good night, Captain America!” another guard calls out. Steve shuts the door quickly, heart beating a little faster than it ought to be. This must be how a pretty lady feels walking past a bunch of construction workers. Terrified. If T’Challa wanted his personal guard to be intimidating, he sure knew how to pick ‘em. He feels five-foot-four all over again as he climbs back into bed beside Bucky.

“Those girls razzin’ ya?” Bucky mumbles, still mostly asleep. “I need to have a word with ‘em?”

“Don’t,” Steve chides. “Don’t even go out there. They’ll eat you alive, Buck,” he laughs, settling back in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and hugs to molly for the beta-read and clockworkqueen for the prompt!


	3. Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dropping this fic right on the steps of your palace like, "BOOM, you looking for this?"

Bucky rolls over, stretches and sighs deeply, and Steve recognizes a familiar nuance to his sigh from years spent sleeping side by side that tells him that Bucky is now wide awake. Steve rubs the last of the sleep from his own eyes and sits up on his elbows. Bucky’s gaze is distant, like he’s just waking up from an unsettling dream. Steve knows that feeling - he knows that thousand-yard-stare. He moves in a little closer, nudging their shoulders together, trying to anchor Bucky to something real and present.

“You holding up alright?”

Bucky laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “Oh, boy. I don’t know. Better. Better now that I’ve had some sleep, but it’s...it’s just…”

“A lot,” Steve provides.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “How about you?”

“I’m still catching up with the last few days, myself,” he concedes. “Anything you wanna talk about?” he presses softly, trying not to seem to expectant.

“Actually...yeah,” Bucky says with smile that’s practically a cringe. “But I don’t know...I don’t know if you’d be...It might not be something  _ you _ wanna talk about. With me.”

“Just you try me,” he encourages.  _ Don’t get your hopes up. Just make sure he knows you’re still here.  _ “Jeez, Buck, I’d listen to you cheer for the Cardinals and just be happy to hear your voice.”  _ Okay, maybe that seemed too desperate. _

But it makes Bucky laugh, and that makes it worth it. His expression relaxes a little after Steve’s joke and he takes his time, thinking through what he wants to say, choosing his words very carefully, if the way he worries the inside of his cheek is any indication. “So, uh, that  _ lady, _ ” he begins.

“Natasha?”

“No, the one--”

“Oh! The guard you were all googly-eyed over?”

“Goddammit, I was not  _ googly-eyed _ \- ah, forget it. The one you kissed.”

Steve’s hands suddenly feel cold. “Oh. Sharon.”

“How long you two been a thing?” Bucky asks airily.

“Well, we’re - that was just--” Steve stammers. “That was the first time we’d done that. Uh. Kissed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, you know, we’d been talking for a little while before that. On and off, you know. Just flirting. But that was before I heard about - before I knew where to find you and--”

Bucky suddenly looks a little panicked. “I’m not pissed about it, Stevie,” he clarifies, then turns his gaze back up toward the ceiling. Steve watches it get distant again. “I kind of figured you’d have moved on, by now, you know?” he says, sounding (if Steve’s hopeful heart isn’t playing tricks on him) just a little sad underneath the bravado. “What we had back then--”  _ Thank God.  _ “I always thought you’d grow out of it, eventually. I think….well, I knew I wasn’t going to be enough. I knew you’d want to find somebody better one day - a girl. Settle down. Have kids and stuff.”

Steve clenches his jaw. Tries not to respond too quickly. God knows, if he goes with his knee-jerk reaction, he’s going to lean over and show Bucky what a real kiss looks like and he’s not going to stop until Bucky damn well understands just how  _ enough _ he is. One step at a time. “So, you...you remember that we were together.”

And that brings a  _ real _ smile to Bucky’s face, sweet and wistful and brimming with memory. Steve’s heart swells and breaks. “Yeah...you know, I think I remembered that  _ first. _ Before I even remembered your name.”

Steve blushes excitedly. “Back when we were in Washington? On the highway? You’re kidding.”

“No, earlier, actually. Saw you through my scope, back at your apartment. Couldn’t get you off my mind after that,” he grins, and then quickly forces his expression to sober. “Oh. I’m...Steve, I’m sorry. About your friend.”

“Oh, Fury,” Steve chuckles, giving Bucky a sympathetic pat on the side. “No worries, Buck--”

“What, was he an asshole?”

“No! Well, yeah, but--he’s fine, Bucky.”

“ _ What _ ?” Bucky Barnes looks so relieved he could cry, but Steve can’t help but notice that there’s still a touch of the Winter Soldier in his eyes and voice, just beneath the surface, and the Soldier seems…offended.

“Yeah, he made it out okay.”

“I’m glad,” Bucky concludes decisively, burying any misgivings the Soldier might have had about failing a mission. He shuffles nervously against the sheets, right hand rubbing absently over his left shoulder, gathering his words again. “So. Sharon. You and Sharon.”

“Yeah,” Steve coughs. He’s starting to think he should have taken his chances with T’Challa’s guards. “I mean, no. Well, sort of. But, Bucky, if you  _ want to -  _ Sharon and I barely know each other. So if this,” he gestures vaguely toward the space of bed between them, “is still something you’re interested in - because it’s  _ all _ I want. I’ll--”

“You’d still want me?”

Steve falls silent, stunned by the sheer magnitude of that understatement. Hell, maybe it’s his own fault. Maybe he never told Bucky plainly enough back then. Maybe he should have told him how much he -  _ No, not “maybe.” _ He should have. He’s regretted all the things he didn’t say every day since Bucky fell. And now his selfish fling with Sharon is just muddying the waters. Then again, what if this isn’t all that serious to Bucky? What if Steve comes on too strong and scares him off?

Then  _ again _ , where could Bucky really run off to? They’re in a jet over the middle of the ocean. If Bucky doesn’t like what Steve’s got to say, then he’ll just have to look Steve in the eye and tell him so. And that’s that.

“Bucky, I  _ love _ you. You...you’re it, for me.”

Well,  _ that _ gets Bucky’s eyes off the ceiling. “You pullin’ my leg?” is all he manages in response.

Steve leans back and laughs out loud, joyous and relieved. “No -  _ God, _ no. I’m not. I should have told you. I know we...we had a thing. We didn’t know what to call it back then, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about what it was. What it is. I’ve loved you since...golly, since high school. Since I was sixteen years old.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon: Butt Stuff.


	4. Criminal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there are no butts yet. Butts have been temporarily rescheduled.
> 
> Also, this is the silliest, fluffiest, most fun thing I've ever written and I'd just like to thank not only God, but Jesus...and mollynoble and clockworkqueen.

“You  _ love  _ me.” Bucky repeats it slowly, reverently, like he just wants to hear it again. He turns to meet Steve’s eyes.

Steve leans in a fraction of an inch, the corner of his mouth curling upward. “Wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t.”

“Don’t kiss nobody else,” Bucky whispers, tilting his head.

“Not on your life, pal.”

And the last few words are barely intelligible because their bodies have crashed together without their permission. There’s an unstoppable magnetism between them that no longer allows for patient conversation.

They kiss until their lips are bruised. Every time one of them tries to pull away, the other draws him back in for more. They kiss until Bucky, with his broken nose, absolutely  _ has _ to push Steve away so he can get a breath. Steve is tempted to let him get a good lungful of air and then plunge right back in and keep on kissing him until T’Challa and his guards have to drag them off the damn jet.

“Great,” Bucky groans in frustration before Steve has the chance to capture his lips again.

“What?”

“Just...bad timing, that’s all,” he side-steps with a rueful scoff and a bright blush.

Steve cocks a smug half-smile, certain that he and Bucky have found themselves in the same predicament. “What, you looking indecent?” he teases, eyes flickering downward.

“About the first one I’ve had, too,” Bucky confesses, blush deepening as he studies the brocaded blanket to distract himself. “It didn’t - I didn’t really...Well. You know.” He clears his throat to imply the rest. “Thought I’d just lost interest.”

“Nah,” Steve grins, reaching out to run his hand over the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, feeling the fullness of his chest and his muscular waistline underneath. He gives him a hard pat right below the navel, making Bucky wince through a grin of his own and curl in on himself indignantly, huffing out a choked breath. “Just waiting for the right partner, huh?”

“You...in a similar way?” Bucky asks, one eyebrow lifting flirtatiously.

“With the way you kiss, Buck, it was kind of inevitable.”

And then, Bucky gives him that look.  _ That _ look. If Steve’s seen it once, he’s seen it a hundred times since they were kids, and what’s worse, he’s pretty sure Bucky picked it up from  _ him. _ It says,  _ Let’s do something bad, Stevie. Come on, don’t let your ma find out. Let’s see what we can get away with. _ And Steve has never had the good sense to say no to that kind of challenge. Not once. He dips his head down to kiss Bucky’s jaw - he only  _ means _ to kiss it, but the way Bucky smells and tastes is just too enticing. Not flowery or feminine or even that faint hint of spice that always seems to surround Nat - it’s gunpowder and gasoline and machine oil mixed with sweat and a clean overtone of whatever antiseptic T’Challa had put on the cut spanning the bridge of his nose, and it’s so unique to Bucky and so _ close  _ and  _ present. _ Because Bucky is  _ right here,  _ lying next to him. 

And that’s a gift. That’s all Steve has prayed for since Bucky was deployed, and he’s got it right here in his hands.

He moves lower to kiss and nip at Bucky’s throat, running the flat of his tongue over rough stubble and salt-tinged skin until he feels a deep groan in Bucky’s chest resonating between them.

“What are we gonna do?” Bucky whispers heatedly.

“We’ll figure something out,” Steve slurs, sucking just to the verge of leaving a mark on Bucky’s neck before he pulls away. “We always do.”

“Can’t make too much of a mess, though--”

“Not on these sheets.”

“Lemme just suck you off, Stevie--”

“Hell, no, Buck, you can’t breathe out of your nose--”

“Then just stick it--”

“Buck, we don’t have lube, we don’t have a  _ rubber-- _ ”

“Why do we need a rubber?”

“Because--”

“‘Cause you been off philandering.”

“Oh, I have not.”

Bucky shoves Steve off and dries his jaw off on his sleeve, shaking his head and laughing breathlessly. “Oh, you big baby. Here, I’ll handle it.”

“Where are you--”

And just like that, Bucky gets up, adjusts himself so that his erection is (somewhat) less noticeable, and slips out of the cabin. Steve breaks into a nervous sweat immediately. Bucky used to have a talent for talking his way into or out of just about anything, but after all that he’s been through, Steve’s not sure that smooth-talking is still within Bucky’s skillset. In any case, how on earth is he planning to explain away the state of his hair and the fresh marks on his throat and, God forbid if someone notices, the way his jeans are riding? He strains to hear what’s happening out in the main cabin.

“Ah...excuse me, ma’am?”

“Well,  _ hello. _ ”

_ Shit. _

“Coming out to play poker with us?”

“Ha, maybe later,” he hears Bucky reply, sounding cool as a cucumber even though Steve is pretty sure they’ve already clocked him. “Any chance I could get another gauze-pad, though? Think I bled through this one, here.”  _ Oh, sure, Buck. Play your little wounded puppy card _ , Steve thinks, trying not to remember all the times he actually saw it  _ work _ when they were in school. “If it’s not too much trouble,” he adds shyly, as Steve, who’s heard this one before, mouths the words right along with him.

And by the sound of it, the guards just  _ fawn _ over him after that. There’s a bit of commotion as they change the bandage and a little more innocent flirting on Bucky’s part. When he returns five minutes later looking smug, Steve’s still not sure what he set out to do.

“The hell was that all about?” Steve whispers as Bucky slides the door shut behind him.

“Uh, petroleum jelly,” Bucky grins, shaking it out of his sleeve and tossing the tube over to Steve. “Saw it in the first aid kit when T’Challa was patching me up, earlier. Thought I’d lift it. Stuff’s cheap, right?”

“James Buchanan!” Steve scolds sincerely. “You little jerk - they’re being so nice and then you go and - and rob ‘em blind. I ought to march you right back to Berlin and let them lock you up.”

Bucky heaves a disappointed sigh and climbs back into the lavish bed, curling up with his back pressed into Steve’s side. “Sorry, I’m a career criminal. So, what’s the plan, Cap?”

“I don’t know, pal, I’d say we better flip a coin,” Steve whispers huskily against the shell of his ear, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist.

“Ah - you go ahead...if your back isn’t killing you, that is,” Bucky taunts sweetly.

“What about you?” Steve asks, even though he’s already unbuttoning his jeans with unabashed eagerness. Like hell either of them are getting  _ that _ kind of mess all over the King of Wakanda’s expensive sheets - giving Bucky a reach-around isn’t really an option, as much as Steve would love to do it.

“Well,” Bucky wheedles. “I mean,  _ your _ nose isn’t broken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Butt stuff next time, for sure.


	5. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought you guys might want some butt stuff. Just a guess.

“Well,” Bucky wheedles. “I mean, _your_ nose isn’t broken.”

“Oh,” Steve groans. “I see your play. Yeah, _good_ one. Hell--” he sighs suddenly, voice flooding with emotion. “ _Hell_ , Bucky. You - you sound like - God, it’s like we’re kids again. Like nothing ever happened.”

“Well, I’m pretending nothing happened,” Bucky smiles tiredly.

Steve reaches up instinctively to clasp his friend’s shoulder comfortingly. “Buck, you shouldn’t--”

But Bucky takes Steve’s left hand in his right and holds it tightly - almost pleadingly. “Hey...just let me, alright? Just give me five minutes.”

Steve is struck silent for a moment before he can find the right words. “As long as you know...that I love who you are now just as much as I loved you in ‘45. You don’t have to be the same person. I know you’re not.”

Bucky huffs and presses back into Steve’s chest impatiently. “Love you, too. Come on, we’ll talk about all the weepy stuff later, huh?”

“What,” Steve smirks behind Bucky’s back, finding his smile again. “You in a hurry or something?”

“Yes, I am,” he bitches. “We’re on a tight schedule and I’ve been waiting seventy goddamn years for this.”

“Ooh, seventy years, huh?” Steve teases, leaning down to kiss his neck again, palming him roughly through the thick fabric of his pants. He’s always been so self-conscious about saying lewd things - it sounds so silly when he says stuff like that, and dirty talk has always just rolled off Bucky’s tongue so easily. But he knows how much Bucky loves it when he can manage to get the words out, and right now he wants to give Bucky everything he loves. “Sounds like I better take it real slow.” Bucky must hear the change in his tone, because his ears prick up and the corner of his mouth twitches with an expectant smile. “I wanna get you nice and slick for me, baby doll.”

And Bucky’s breath quickens at that, but he’s still in the mood to back-talk. “So, you gonna do it, or you gonna make a speech about it?” he simpers, clearly enjoying himself.

Steve practically tears Bucky’s fly open and he probably scrapes his thighs with the zipper yanking his pants down, but Bucky doesn’t seem the least bit offended. He’s biting the heel of his right hand to keep himself quiet as Steve gropes through the tangled covers to find the tube of petroleum jelly and spreads a generous amount over two of his fingers. By the time Steve takes a hold of one of Bucky’s full cheeks and grips it bruisingly, slicks him up, and presses one finger inside, Bucky is long gone. He throws his head back against Steve’s shoulder and pushes himself further down onto his hand, opening up for him and then _holding_ him there. And Bucky feels so warm and tight around his finger and the way his internal muscles flex and ripple and pull him deeper is so erotic that when Steve looks down at his own open jeans and straining cotton briefs he can actually _watch_ himself getting harder. He swallows a desperate, hungry groan as Bucky reaches back to spread himself open a little wider so that Steve’s index finger can join the middle one, and Steve barely talks himself out of touching his own cock with his free hand when he sees how that stretch and burn makes Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, his brows knit, his lips part, makes him grind himself down into Steve’s palm like his take his whole fist if Steve would just let him _have_ it.

“Steve - fuck, baby - come on.”

“Let me stretch you out a little more.”

“No, I don’t need to - _mm,_ God.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, Steve, I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m ready. I want more.”

 _Three and a half more hours,_ Steve reminds himself. _It’s only been ten minutes. Wait. Make_ him _wait. Treat him right._

So Steve works him for _another_ ten minutes on just his fingers, adding a third only when Bucky absolutely _demands_ it, every thrust gentle and lazy, stretching and teasing him while never _quite_ hitting home. He waits until Bucky finally gives up: he calms down, becomes quiet and pliant and trusting, gives into that buzzing, bone-deep high; until his pleading gasps become long, low hums of satisfaction and _Oh, sweetheart, oh, yes_ and _Steve, Steve, Steve_. That’s where he wants him. That’s what he wants to see.

And for all that Bucky’s been through and the sheer quantity of punishment his body has endured over the past week, he seems happy. He’s almost certainly in pain - Steve knows the throbbing headache that comes with a broken nose and a bruised cheek, but he doesn’t complain. That split in Bucky’s lip must sting every time he smiles, but he smiles anyway. In spite of every abrasion and cut and every sore muscle and aching bone, he still moves against Steve - moves _with him_ , body accepting whatever Steve will give it. The exposed wires and nerve-connections on his demolished prosthetic are probably sending biting currents of electricity through his shoulder and down his spine, and all Steve can do is touch him, give him bliss in greater measure and make him forget everything that hurts.

Even though Bucky’s breathing has slowed down and the tension in his face and shoulders has eased, Steve knows he’s just as eager as when they started. There’s a warm sheen of sweat on his face. His cock looks flushed and heavy against his thigh and there’s pre-cum beading on the tip, dangerously close to dripping onto the bedding. That’s more than enough of an excuse for Steve to finally take Bucky in his hand and give him a couple of easy, languid strokes, gathering all the moisture on his thumb and slicking up the head of Bucky’s cock with it, making him shudder against Steve’s chest and curse through his clenched teeth.

He lets go after a few more measured strokes (and Bucky just about _growls_ when he does) and repeats the same motions on himself, pressing his own cock into the small of Bucky’s back with each slow pull and twist, making sure Bucky feels how hard he is.

Steve empties the remainder of the lube onto the head of his cock and stows the empty tube in his back pocket, then coats himself from tip to root, stroking faster than before, right up to the point where he has to force his hand to stop before he loses it.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks in a breathless whisper.

Bucky’s voice sounds more fargone than his words when he collects himself enough to reply. “Just waiting on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon: EVEN MORE Butt Stuff, Now with 150% More Captain America Dick.
> 
> (The joke is dead, Zack, let it go.)


	6. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my lovely and talented and gorgeous Zoe, who isn't feeling so hot right now.
> 
> Feel better, friend! You're loved!

Bucky’s voice sounds more fargone than his words when he collects himself enough to reply. “Just waiting on you,” he gripes, and Steve can hear that he wouldn’t have to say much to take the piss out him now - push him just a little further and Bucky won’t be able to give him any more lip. He’ll be too hard to do much but beg, and Steve thinks that might sound pretty nice.

“You want it?” he chuckles, lips brushing the back of Bucky’s neck, pressing his cock against him just above his still-thrusting fingers.

“God - God, yes.”

“You need me to fuck you, darlin’?” he asks, pulling his fingers out a few centimeters.

“Fuck! Yes. Yes, yes,” Bucky pants raggedly.

“I don’t know - you think I stretched you out good?”

_ “Mm-” _

“Get you slick enough, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, goddammit - just--”

“Just what?”

“Baby, please,  _ please.” _

“What, Bucky?”

“Steve, fuck! Come  _ on. _ Come here--”

And Steve can hear Bucky’s voice starting to break a little - it’s getting harder for him to stay quiet. If he pushes him too far, T’Challa’s guards and the King himself are going to hear about it. Steve gets the feeling that if he doesn’t give Bucky what he wants soon enough, they’ll be hearing about it on the nearest  _ continent.  _ Well, Bucky’s just going to have to hold it together, unless he wants everyone on the jet to know exactly what they’re doing, so Steve pushes him just a  _ little _ more. “Yeah?”

And that’s the last crack the dam can take before it bursts. “Steve -  _ mm _ \- Stevie, please, Stevie, come on, baby. Fuck me. Please, baby, please, please, I want it. I want it. God, Stevie, I want you in me, I want you to fuck me,” he sobs.

“Oh, sweetie, that’s what I wanted to hear,” Steve groans, so hard that he’s half-dazed. His head spins and he sees a million neon colors bursting against blackness when he finally presses forward. Bucky is so slick and ready for him and - _ oh, hell, oh yes -  _ it’s like a hot knife into butter. Bucky takes every inch like it’s what he was made for.

Steve gives them both a moment to recover after that as Bucky pants raggedly, adjusting to the sudden fullness, body struggling to accommodate Steve’s girth. Steve holds his breath and tries to think of something that will calm him down and cool the heat coiling in in his belly.

Laughter filters in from the main cabin - and  _ that  _ does the trick. He suddenly remembers that they’re far from alone and (as it will make any difference) he pulls the covers up over their bodies. Maybe with the blankets, they’d at least have some measure of plausible deniability if someone were to walk in on them.

Bucky moves his right arm from where it had been cushioning his head and reaches back to take Steve by the nape of his neck and pull him in close. Steve lets himself be drawn in, feeling like he’s finally reunited with the rest of his body.

“Thank you, Steve,” Bucky says plainly. The touch of his hand expresses what his voice can’t. “Thanks for coming to find me.”

Steve puts his own arm out so that Bucky can rest his head there instead. “Anytime, Buck. Just don’t run off again, huh?”

Bucky heaves a sigh, weariness bleeding through the arousal. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do. You deserve better than this, actually,” Steve corrects himself, burying his face in Bucky’s hair. “Wish I could have taken you out to dinner first.”

Bucky laughs, curling in on himself when he jostles his bruised ribs. “Maybe, hospital then dinner.”

“You backing out on me?” Steve smirks, thrusting forward a few slow centimeters.

_ “Oh…. _ no. No. Let’s go.”

Steve’s tormented him enough. He pulls out right to the tip of his cock, then grabs hold of Bucky’s hipbone and anchors himself there, sinking back inside and bringing their bodies flush against each other. Bucky groans quietly with that first careful thrust and the sound of his voice makes Steve desperate to hear him come apart.

He shifts back a little, pulling Bucky’s hips back with him, and thrusts upward this time, deeper than before, remembering exactly how Bucky’s body works like he remembers the way home. He knows precisely when the head of his cock drags along Bucky’s prostate, because Bucky squeezes him like a vice and arches his back, hissing through his teeth. Steve finds his rhythm and Bucky matches it flawlessly, and he givens in completely.

Steve surrounds himself with Bucky: the smell of his hair; the warm, smooth skin of his hip under his palm; the feeling of being inside him, gripped, engulfed in his body; the sound of his breathing. He shuts his eyes and imagines that they’re somewhere else - completely alone, not a scrap of clothing between them. Summer. Bright sunlight. No bruises, no cuts, no exposed wires or painfully grinding servomotors, no barely-won fights. Just the two of them, skin-to-skin, Unhurt. Clean, well-rested, well-fed. And Bucky, stretched out across the sheets underneath him, smiling up at him with clear eyes and soft lips. And Bucky knows he’s safe - can  _ feel _ in his bones and his heart how loved he is, how  _ wanted.  _ It’s not the first time Steve’s had this fantasy. He watches it like a familiar movie, every detail coming together effortlessly. It used to make him sad. Before, it was impossible. Even once he found out that Bucky had survived, it was far-fetched. Now, it’s just a matter of time.

Steve doesn’t open his eyes. He stays right there, hoping that if he just  _ imagines _ Bucky like that with enough intensity, maybe Bucky will feel it. Feel the sunshine and the warm breezes and all the safety and love and intimacy Steve wants to give him. A shiver runs through Bucky’s body, making Steve’s breath hitch. Fingers tighten on the back of his neck, pulling his forehead down to rest against Bucky’s shoulder.

Steve’s orgasm is intense, and so different from anything he’s felt in this century - it’s long and slow, building to gentle crest like a sweet song. He feels it everywhere, from his groin to his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes, right out into the air around him and all through Bucky’s body. Steve rides it like a wave through one low, relaxed exhale, never breaking his rhythm even when Bucky tenses up around him, drawing out his climax with a roll of his spine that pulls Steve a little deeper inside and holds him there like a loving embrace.

Steve can’t find his voice. The afterglow is just as intense as the climax was, and he’s not quite ready to come down from his high and break the spell of electric warmth that’s cradling him. Bucky’s fingernails drag lightly over Steve’s scalp and his voice filters in through the fog, and Steve can hear that he’s smiling - the very same easy, sweet smile he’d been imagining. “I’ve got you, Stevie. I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: dick stuff.


	7. Don't Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wouldn't leave Bucky hanging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some filth, ya little trash-monsters.

Bucky lets him enjoy his afterglow for such a long time that Steve almost manages to fall asleep, still sheathed inside Bucky’s body. That would have made for a very awkward wake-up call, once the jet landed. Just as he’s dozing off, Bucky tugs on his hair.

“Steve.”

Steve jolts awake, desperately hoping that he wasn’t snoring. “Yeah,” he answers in a voice that’s almost _ too _ loud and clear, just to prove that he wasn’t drifting off.

“You’d better not leave me hanging,” Bucky scolds. “Seriously, this is starting to ache,” he chuckles, and the movement sends a shiver through Steve’s over-sensitive nerves.

Steve pulls out  _ very _ slowly and carefully and (because he doesn’t really have another option) tucks himself back into himself back into his pants with a grimace. Hopefully, showering will be a feasible first priority when they land. For his sake  _ and  _ Bucky’s. Steve buttons his jeans back up, wishing he’d had the sense to wait and enjoy this with Bucky once they were someplace a little more suitable, but hell, he’d never had that sort of sense when it came to Bucky and sex.

Steve pats him gently on the ribs, avoiding the bruises he knows are hiding under his shirt. “Lay on your back,” Steve whispers, throwing the blankets over his head. Bucky promptly throws them back off. When Steve goes to pull them up again, Bucky flicks his hand away.

“Don’t cover up, Steve, I want to watch,” he pleads.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” Steve says nervously. “Feels kind of exposed. What if somebody comes in and sees?”

“Like they’re not going to know exactly what’s going on if they see your head bobbing and your feet dangling off the end of the bed.”

“And the look on your face?” Steve teases, lips dangerously close to the tip of Bucky’s cock as he speaks, warm breath ghosting over his flushed skin.  _ Oh, yeah,  _ Steve thinks.  _ There’s the look.  _ Bucky’s mouth has fallen open wide and his eyes are squeezed shut. His eyebrows knit together and he pants with frustration, pressing his head back into the pillows, and Steve hasn’t even touched him yet. “Yeah, forget the stupid blanket,” Steve smiles, reaching up to lay his hand flat on Bucky’s belly, just below his navel, scratching his nails through the course trail of hair. “I want to watch you try to stay quiet,” he laughs, and flicks his tongue against a pulsing vein. Bucky gasps and clutches at the corner of his pillow, eyes snapping open, wide and glassy. “Come on,” Steve smirks, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the underside of Bucky’s cock. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. You wanted to watch, didn’tcha?” He kisses again, this time toying gently with the base of the shaft between his teeth.

Bucky’s fist seizes around a handful of the pillow. “If I... _ fuck _ ...if I look right now, I’ll lose it, Steve.”

Steve lets the flat of his tongue press into Bucky’s over-heated skin and closes his lips, sucking lightly and pulling away with a sweet little  _ pop.  _ “Well, that’s the point, pal,” he grins smugly.

“That’d be thirty fuckin’ seconds,” Bucky whines, already sounding totally wrecked. “That’s pitiful.”

“I’d call it  _ flattering,” _ Steve smiles, finally wrapping his fingers around Bucky’s cock to guide the head toward his mouth. He rubs it lightly against his bottom lip, getting a taste of salt-tinged pre-come and savoring it happily. He sucks the tip into his mouth and lets Bucky enjoy the warmth and wetness for a few seconds before he pulls away again. “Come on, Buck,” he rasps, feeling himself starting to get hard in his jeans all over again. “Just let go for me, baby.” He lowers his head and closes his lips around Bucky again, swirling his tongue, and Bucky does just the opposite of letting go - he grabs and fistful of Steve’s hair and makes sure he’s  _ stays _ right there.

Fine, so  _ that _ turns the tables. Steve groans lavisciously as Bucky pulls just hard enough to make his scalp tingle and sting, and the way his tongue vibrates makes Bucky cant his hips up, driving his cock further into Steve’s mouth.

Steve works him over like he’s never done before - uses every little trick he already knows Bucky loves and tries a few new things, too. He’d never admit it to Bucky (or anyone else) but the internet was new and fascinating and had  _ so much pornography _ , and Steve hadn’t exactly been able to stay away from it, once curiosity got the better of him. He liked to think he was a man who could learn by example. Bucky hisses through his teeth and his fingers tremble when Steve opens up his throat and flutters the tip of his tongue against him, and his nails dig into Steve scalp when he bobs his head, letting the length of Bucky’s cock slide against the walls of his hollowed cheeks. But when Steve takes a nice deep breath through his nose and relaxes his jaw, lets him sink in deep, right to the back of his throat, Bucky has to beat his fist against the mattress and fight back what Steve surmises would have been a shout of pleasure, which comes out as a high, wracking keen.

“Oh my God,  _ oh my God, ohmygod,  _ Steve, Steve, shit,  _ oh,” _ and every other unintelligible, filthy, pleading phrase tumbles out of him as Steve swallows around him. Steve’s not even sure which one of them is enjoying this more - Bucky would be the obvious choice, but Bucky has no idea just how pleased Steve is with himself. Steve’s never done this before - well, he’s sucked Bucky off a fair bit, but he’s never _ deep-throated _ him. And Bucky’s probably never felt anything quite like this, Steve thinks. He’d allow himself a smug smile, if he could. He swallows again and moves his hand away from Bucky’s cock, working his mouth down another half inch until his nose is buried in Bucky’s wiry curls. And now that his hands are free, he takes a bruising grip on Bucky’s shaking thighs and hold him still, so that Bucky has no choice but to accept the absolute overload of pleasure Steve is giving him.

Steve’s hears a change come over Bucky’s voice - it drops a few notes, soft groans getting a little more urgent, a little more frequent, and the uncontrollable tremble in his thighs builds under Steve’s hands until they go still and tense. Bucky’s breath catches and Steve raises his eyes to watch him, and finds that Bucky’s watching him, too. His lips are bitten deep-red and his pupils are totally blown, and his abs have seized up, lifting him up off the bed. Bucky can’t keep his eyes open for long, though - his face twists with pleasure, cheeks and neck flushing dark and teeth bared, watering eyes leaving his lashes heavy and wet.

His cock swells in Steve’s mouth and Steve’s jaw aches, straining to accommodate Bucky’s girth. He has to pant through his nose to keep himself from choking as Bucky’s come hits the back of his throat and fills his mouth, salty and bitter and hot against his tongue. Steve struggles to swallow every bit of it, too - his fingers dig into Bucky’s thighs and he grinds against the mattress, loving every filthy, gorgeous second that he gets to feel Bucky coming into his mouth.

Steve pushes himself to keep Bucky’s whole length in his throat until Bucky’s body finally goes lax, and then he lets himself pull back and gasp for air. He swallows the last of it with dazed grin and lets his head drop to rest against the crest of Bucky’s hip. “How was that?” Steve smiles -  _ like he has to ask. _

Bucky doesn’t move. If Steve couldn’t see him breathing and feel his pulse racing under his cheek, he’d wonder if maybe Bucky had given up the ghost. It takes him a good while before he can answer, and then all he manages is a broken little sigh of, “Wow.”

And Steve figures that’s the best response he could have hoped for. He settles down, nestling his face against Bucky’s stomach, feeling awfully proud of himself. “Glad to hear it, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If a little goblin came to my house and put a curse on me and told me the only thing I could write, for the rest of my life, was Steve Rogers giving blow-jobs, I'd just be like, "Yeah, joke's on you, little goblin dude. That is my favorite thing."


	8. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa's jet arrives in Wakanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun, friends!

Steve and Bucky straighten out their clothes and kick off the covers. They’re both warm and sleepy, and with hours still left before they land, there’s no reason not to indulge themselves in another long nap. They trade places on the bed, so that Bucky can lay his head on Steve’s shoulder without hurting the destroyed shoulder joint of the weapon. It gives Steve a close view of the damage, though, and he can’t help but stare. It makes him remember the events of the past week - Tony, Ross, Sam, Zemo, that base in Siberia, seeing the way the other Soldiers were kept, seeing the lab filled with instruments of torture. That lab wasn’t just a place that Bucky had _been_ , it was where he had been _kept._ Steve had poured over every available file on the Winter Soldier that Natasha had unearthed, but no photograph really scratched the surface of _seeing_ a glimpse of what Bucky’s life had been. But the rage that Steve feels over that is dampened, because Bucky is right here with him. He made it. He got out. He survived, and he came home.

Steve drags his fingers through Bucky’s hair, stroking lightly over his temple as Bucky sinks back into a doze, and tips his head down to kiss his forehead. Bucky hums softly, and Steve shivers as he feels his warm breath ghost over his neck, feels the shape of Bucky’s smile against his shoulder. His throat aches and his eyes feel hot, but this isn’t the time to cry. He can do that later, when he gets a moment alone. He wants every moment spent with Bucky to be _this -_ just love and tenderness. No sadness. Not right now. So he pushes it down and asks meaningfully, “Are you alright?”

Bucky sighs deeply, and when he lets the air out, his whole body seems to weigh heavier against Steve’s side. “Not...yet,” he answers honestly. “But I will be. I thought I was doing a lot better, but I guess...well, I was running. Hiding, always looking over my shoulder. But, I had a roof over my head - I worked on cars, you know,” he laughs. “Just odd-jobs, worked as a farmhand in the summer, saved all my money. But I knew there were still people who could use me. I knew I was just...it was all just borrowed time. Maybe this was just God’s way of telling me that the break’s over. Now I have to get better.”

“I’ll be there, Buck,” Steve whispers. “For as long as it takes. For whatever you need. You’re not going to do this alone anymore.”

 

Steve is enjoying the deepest sleep of his life when Bucky shakes him awake. He hadn’t even heard the rapping on their cabin door. He drags himself out of the bed, ears popping - they must have already _landed_. Hell, he really was out.

Hiwot’s polite smile greets him when he opens the door, trying his best to flatten the mess the pillow (and Bucky) made of his hair. Hiwot’s eyes glimmer with what must be happiness to be back home. “Welcome to Wakanda, gentlemen,” she says, gesturing for them to follow her out into the main cabin.

Steve and Bucky shuffle out together, Steve still trying to fix his tousled bed-head and Bucky rubbing his undoubtedly sore neck. The rest of the women are gathered tightly by the entrance to the cockpit, and a few of them are crammed into a small side-room - on most jets, it would be a storage closet. On T’Challa’s jet, Steve wouldn’t be surprised if it was filled with weapons and spare vibranium body suits.

A few of them turn when they hear Steve and Bucky and Hiwot coming to join them. Meklit’s eyes meet Hiwot’s and Steve sees that same bright glimmer in them, and this time the intensity of it is enough to make him a little nervous. He knows they were all itching to spar, but can they not wait until he and Bucky have at least eaten? Why on earth are they looking at each other like that? Steve glances over his shoulder toward Bucky, who seems especially on edge. He noticed it, too, then. Steve’s wipes his sweating palms on his pant-legs.

Seble pushes her way out of the storage room and leans in the doorway, her pose affectedly seductive as she joins her sisters’ mysterious staring contest. She grins sadistically at Hiwot and says something in Xhosa, apparently not meant for Steve or Bucky’s ears. Whatever it was, though, it sends the whole group from tight-lipped smiles into unconcealable fits of laughter. Even Shuri, still seated in the cockpit, defeatedly removes her headset and dissolves into tearful giggles. Hiwot just freezes, her carefully poised expression crumbling, and turns on her heel to push past Steve and Bucky, hand clasped over her mouth and eyes streaming. She wheezes out what sounds like a desperate apology as she nearly collides with T’Challa, who has only just left his own cabin to deboard, and sits down on one of the couches with her face in her hands, trying and failing to collect herself. T’Challa’s eyes fall on Steve and Bucky, looking for help from the only other people who don’t seem to be in on the joke, but Steve can only shrug. He’s doing his best to hide it, but at this point he’s getting _extremely_ nervous.

“Did the two of you manage to get some rest?” T’Challa asks, deciding that whatever has his guards so amused isn’t worth his time.

Steve gives a polite nod, and is just about to thank T’Challa again for all he’s done for them, but he’s interrupted by another explosion of laughter from Shuri.

T’Challa sighs, pushing past his teary-eyed and weak-kneed guards to get to the cockpit. Steve feels sweat beading on his forehead as the guards all try to deter him from speaking to Shuri. What if - _oh, God -_  what if they overheard? Steve is starting to wish he could sink into the floor. They should have waited. They shouldn’t have done it at all. It was so God-awfully stupid, not to mention _disrespectful -_ and now T’Challa’s probably hearing all about it. What a way to show their gratitude to him for taking them in and helping them.

But as T’Challa stands back up to his full height and makes his way back toward them, he only smirks and shakes his head. Steve wets his lips and inclines his head toward Shuri. “What-wh-ah,” he clears his throat as Bucky gives him a hard glare for stuttering like an idiot at the king of Wakanda. “What did - what’s all the fuss about?” Steve finally manages, planting his hands on his hips and knitting his brow with innocent concern.

“I don’t know,” T’Challa groans. “Maybe I have been working them too hard lately. My sister would only tell me that it didn’t concern me.”

Steve desperately tries to keep his expression neutral as Shuri flashes him a thumbs up from behind T’Challa.

“Oh,” he says dismissively. “Huh. Oh, well. You know...that’s just. What are you going to do?” he shrugs.

“Sometimes broads are just like that,” Bucky affirms. Steve side-eyes him hard, as if to say, _Not another goddamn word out of you._

T’Challa doesn’t seem to be familiar with the epithet, thankfully, so he takes it in stride and inclines his head politely in agreement. Steve and Bucky both hold their breath as he excuses himself to his quarters again to collect his things. The rest of his guards collect themselves and depart to the same task, leaving only Shuri in the cockpit.

Steve finally releases the puff of air he’d been holding in and approaches her warily. “Um, pardon me...ma’am.”

She turns, cocking an eyebrow at him, and responds shortly, “What?”

“Ah - thank you. For whatever you did, back there. But - I’m almost scared to ask - what was all that about?”

Shuri spins her chair to face him, crossing one leg over the other demurely. “King T’Chaka was hospitable to his guests,” she smiles. “But he did not trust them.” She points one long, shapely finger at the door to the storage room. Bucky, who is standing beside the cracked door, peeks inside first. His face immediately goes pallid and blank, and he simply turns around and walks away. Steve’s curiosity (and apprehension) are instantly piqued. He pushes the door open and sticks his head in.

Security cameras.

_Security cameras._

One on the sink in the bathroom. Three in the main cabin. Two in the cockpit.

And two in the guest-cabin.

Not only had the guards been watching, they’d been watching in full color from _two angles_.

Steve stomach does some impressive acrobatics. He wishes he could close his mouth, but it’s just not happening. He feels winded. The first words he manages to force out are, “Ma’am, I - I am _so_ sorry. We didn’t mean to - I mean, we didn’t know--”

Shuri raises her hand to silence him. It works. “That sort of thing is acceptable in Wakanda. We are not socially backwards like your own country,” she informs him, sounding almost sympathetic. “I am not going to tell my brother.”

Steve nods shakily, wiping away a little bead of sweat that’s trickling over his jaw. “That’s - thank you,” he stammers.

“But we will keep the video,” she tells him firmly, lowering her gaze with threatening intent, letting him know loud and clear that this is an ultimatum, not a request. Steve looks over his shoulder at Bucky, who’s still pacing the hallway in a daze. Bucky throws up his singular hand in resignation to their mutual fate.

Steve tips his head in acquiescence, like he’s really got a choice in the deal. “No, yeah, sure,” he says submissively. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

Shuri smiles, pleased with his response, spins her chair back to face the control panel, and replaces her headset to let him know that their negotiations are at an end. “Enjoy your stay in Wakanda, Captain,” she smiles. “I’m glad your trip was pleasant.”

_Damn._

_What a day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! All done! Thank you so much to clockworkqueen for the prompt and to mollynoble for the beta-read, and thanks for all the sweet comments. I hope you guys enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to mollynoble, editor extraordinaire.


End file.
